


Companion

by krasnayazvezda



Category: Doctor Who, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Doctor!Sherlock, F/M, Ficlet, Fluff and Crack, Sherlolly - Freeform, companion!Molly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-11-15 07:18:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11226024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krasnayazvezda/pseuds/krasnayazvezda
Summary: The world is about to end, but Molly doesn't know it yet. The only thing she knows is that she's lonely. It just so happens that a certain Timelord has selected her to be his next companion.





	Companion

On the night the world _almost_ ended, Molly stood outside her flat, contemplating her crushingly lonely existence. She should get herself a companion; a boyfriend (ha!), or a cat. Or something. But then the lights went out in London and the handsome stranger with the mop of Roman curls showed up, all breathless (and breathtaking) and non-neurotypical, babbling on about the end of the world and the urgent need to find a Whifferdill—

(“Excuse me, a what?”)

—named Frobisher who “sort of looks like a pengwing, but not always…you know how it is with shape-shifters”. Except she _didn’t_ know. The only thing she _did_ know was that sensible women with sensible names like Molly did _not_ do unsensible things like follow a strange doctor—

(“And you’re a doctor of what, exactly?”)

—to his “Tardis”. Which was when she learned that a TARDIS was not actually an obscure car brand.

“I need your help, Molly Hooper. Will you help me?”

Zooming around in a magic blue box seemed far more exciting than a microwaved dinner hastily eaten over the kitchen sink, but what could she do? She was only Molly Hooper. She wasn’t special and she did not count, certainly not in the grand scheme of things. And that’s when he smiled, chidingly (and rather beautifully, she thought) and said that in nine hundred years of time and space, he’d never met anyone who wasn’t important. She’d never been one of those women who are moved to bite their lips at Bryonic heroes and their romantic utterances, but there she was lip-biting, and blushing, and agreeing to be _his_ companion.


End file.
